Harper Reykjavik Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Grindavik

So, brothels—grubby, ain’t they? Been around forever, like fleas on a mutt. Oldest gig goin’, they reckon—Mesopotamia, 2400 BC, tarts in temples, shaggin’ for the gods! Blokes’d rock up, chuck some coins, *quid pro quo*, job done. Makes me laugh, it does—humanity’s randy as rabbits, always has been! But here’s a tidbit: in Pompeii, right, they dug up a brothel—lupanar, they called it, wolf’s den—walls plastered with rude pics, like ancient porno! Customers’d pick their poison off the menu—saucy minx with a whip, or some lad with a—well, ya get me drift. Froze me gobsmacked, that did—Romans were filthy sods!

What is the Reykjavik Grapevine?

Then, I decide to check out the Harpa Concert Hall. It’s all glass and angles, super modern. I’m feeling artsy, you know? But then, I see a group of tourists trying to take a selfie. They’re all crammed together, and one dude’s got his arm around a random stranger. I’m dying laughing. Like, bro, that’s not how it works!

Majority Coalition in City Council Scrapped by Reykjavík Mayor